


Covering Up

by wendymr



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Ah. Sergeant Hathaway, you are here. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to where Inspector Lewis might be.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covering Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [divingforstones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/divingforstones/gifts).



> To Divingforstones: Many happy returns! I hope you have a wonderful day.
> 
> With thanks to Uniquepov for the speedy BR!

The sound of footsteps – heels, to be precise – approaching the half-open office door is as good as any alarm. James tenses, but instantly composes himself so that his face is showing nothing but his most polite, respectful exterior as Chief Superintendent Innocent comes to stand in the doorway. 

“Ah. Sergeant Hathaway, you are here. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to where Inspector Lewis might be.”

James stands, trying for a politely surprised expression. “Ma’am. He’s out,” he begins, keeping his tone smooth. “Can I help?”

Innocent sighs. “Somehow, I doubt it, Hathaway.” Her tone’s sharp. “So that you’re aware, I do know that he hasn’t been in all day, and I certainly haven’t received any communication from him to say that he’s ill or had an emergency to deal with. I don’t think it’s _too_ much to ask that my senior officers keep me informed of their whereabouts, do you, Sergeant?”

“No, ma’am,” he agrees, hands gripped behind his back. “I’m sure Inspector Lewis will be in contact very soon.” He gestures out at the board pertaining to their current case. “A new witness turned up...” He allows his sentence to trail off, while – he hopes – giving the impression that Lewis is interviewing said witness.

Innocent just looks at him for a long moment. He can almost feel the layers of his skin and cerebral cortex being stripped away – but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t – he hopes – let his expression change. 

Finally, she nods just once. “I want to see him as soon as he’s back. And I mean immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He waits until she’s gone, then resumes his seat. But the work on his computer screen fails to capture his attention. 

He’s held Innocent at bay for now, but his vague suggestion about a witness won’t wash for long. He’ll have to do better than that.

* * *

James is walking through the outer office half an hour or so later when his phone rings. “Hathaway,” he says crisply, then, “Yes, sir.” After listening for a few moments longer, he adds, “Of course, sir. I’ll let her know.” 

Immediately, he changes direction and walks to Innocent’s office, seeking and getting permission from her PA to enter. “Ma’am.”

“Yes, Hathaway?”

“Inspector Lewis just phoned me. He’s following a lead that’s taking him up to Banbury, and he doesn’t think he’ll be back today. He asked me to let you know.”

For the second time today, Innocent levels that laser stare at him. He’s prepared for it, however, and remains perfectly calm. After a moment, she nods. “All right. I want to see him first thing tomorrow, though.”

“I’ll ensure that he’s aware, ma’am.” He starts to turn, then pauses. “If there’s nothing else?” he adds, knowing it feels like an afterthought, but that’s deliberate. If deflecting the focus of Innocent’s ire to himself will take her attention off Lewis, at least temporarily, it’s worth it.

This time, he gets a gimlet-eyed stare for his trouble. But it’s worth it.

* * *

He fakes another call from Lewis towards the end of the afternoon, this time in their shared office, though the door is conveniently open so the DCs and uniforms outside can hear his side of the ‘conversation’. He ends with a “See you tomorrow, sir. Have a good evening, when you finally get back.” That should do it.

He packs up half an hour later and heads out of the nick, using the back stairs and carefully avoiding Innocent’s office on his way out. It’s been a long day, and he’s just bloody glad it’s over.

Now, he just has to catch Lewis first thing in the morning and fill him in on what he was supposedly doing today. Maybe he’ll drive to Lewis’s flat to pick him up. That would work.

Except, of course, that the whole point of his efforts today was supposed to be that Lewis’s absence would go unnoticed and Lewis himself would never know that James had any involvement in explaining it. So, from that perspective, it’s been something of a failure, really. Sod’s law, that, as Lewis himself would say.

It couldn’t really be helped – but he still wishes he’d done better. Lewis deserves privacy where his grief is concerned; even though James does know what’s going on, Lewis at least should be able to keep the illusion that his sergeant is oblivious. And now he won’t. So, yes, that’s definitely a failure. 

Bugger it, anyway. Bloody Innocent. 

He sighs, lights up a cigarette, and slumps against his car to inhale his drug of choice.

* * *

He’s just getting into his car when his phone rings. And this time it really is Lewis. “Hathaway. Yes, sir?”

“My place, now.” Lewis hangs up immediately.

Christ, what now? James does as he’s told, driving straight over to Lewis’s flat. The door’s opened promptly, and Lewis lets him in without a word. He follows his boss through the hallway towards the kitchen, but stops halfway. “You’re limping!”

“Sprained me ankle.” Lewis sounds as tetchy as he did on the phone, though that’s now understandable. Sprained ankles are painful, not to mention inconvenient. 

“You should have phoned me, sir,” he says immediately. “Have you been to A&E? Do you want me to drive you there now?”

“Already been.” Lewis is clearly heading to put the kettle on; James skirts past him and takes over. “Tried to phone you a couple of times. Your phone was busy.”

“You could have left a message!” he protests. 

Lewis shrugs. James sighs inwardly. Yes, his governor hates the voicemail system on their new phones. He’ll just have to provide yet another training session.

“How did it happen?” he asks, tactfully failing to mention the voicemail. 

“It was bloody stupid. Came out of the flat and walked down the path, an’ some little toerag’d left a skateboard in the way. Didn’t even see it.” Lewis pulls a face. “Realised after a bit that I wasn’t going to be able to drive, so I took a taxi to the JR.”

_I would have come and taken you,_ James wants to protest, but he’s unsure of his ground here. There are times when Lewis is an intensely private person, and he most likely didn’t want his sergeant to see him struggling. 

“That was this morning, though,” he says instead. “When did you get home?”

“Believe it or not, about half an hour ago.” Lewis huffs in exasperation. “When I got there, they said the waiting time was about two hours. Then a major incident came in an’ it got bumped to four hours. Was closer to six by the time I was seen. An’ then I had to wait for an X-ray, and then another wait to be seen again. Bloody hospitals.”

James makes empathetic noises as he makes the coffee. “And it’s just sprained? I assume you’re supposed to keep off it, sir? For how long?”

“Just a sprain, though it’s a bloody painful one. Strapped with an elastic bandage, an’ I’m supposed to elevate it an’ apply ice, though how I’m supposed to do that I don’t know. Haven’t got any frozen peas, an’ I wasn’t going to go limping around Sainsbury to get some.”

“I can do that,” James says instantly. “And get any other shopping you need. Just make a list for me and I’ll get off now.”

“Ah, have your coffee first,” Lewis tells him. The impatient, frustrated tone’s gone; his boss is now using that gruff voice that usually pretends to be hiding amusement. As James sits, Lewis adds, “The last time I phoned you, I was going to ask you to come an’ get me. Would’ve been maybe an hour ago.”

Which would have been when he was pretending to take that second call from Lewis. Bugger it anyway.

“Sorry about that, sir. I would have come, you know that.”

“Course I do, man. Anyway–” Lewis is clearly changing the subject. “–you’re here now, an’ I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Sir?” He can’t help the faint trepidation that fills him.

“Why would Innocent think I’ve spent all day in Banbury?”

_Oh, crap._ “Because I told her you did.” 

“Yeah, got that. What I don’t get is why.” And, when he wants to, Lewis’s stares can be every bit as lethal as Innocent’s.

James takes a deep breath. “I... assumed... that your unexplained absence today was for a different reason.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll leave aside the lecture on the dangers of assuming – which, as a detective, you should know only too well. Why would you have thought that?”

James’s gaze drops to his coffee-mug. “I... am aware of the significance of today’s date, sir. And with the trial only recently over...”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lewis’s physical reaction; it looks as if all the breath’s gone out of the man. But his boss recovers quickly. “Didn’t realise you knew. Would’ve been our thirtieth today.”

James knew that, too. He simply nods.

After a pause, Lewis speaks again. “Wouldn’t’ve stayed away from work for that. Thought you’d know that work keeps me distracted. Better than the drinking, anyway. Not that I can do any of that at the moment,” he adds with a wry grimace. “They insisted on giving me painkillers.”

“I see, sir.” Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ If he’d only not assumed, and he’d actually _phoned_ Lewis when he realised the man was missing, he’d have known about his boss’s injury sooner, and he wouldn’t have spun his web of lies and deceit for Innocent. But he had thought it was related to Lewis’s wedding anniversary and the recent sentencing of Simon Monkford, and just decided that he should leave his boss in peace. 

“So you thought I was drowning me sorrows, and so you covered up for me with Innocent?” The sharp edge he’d have expected to hear in Lewis’s voice isn’t there, and he meets his governor’s gaze. Instead, Lewis is watching him with... yes, fond amusement.

“That... seems a fair summary, sir,” he agrees. “I was wrong. I do apo–”

“Yeah, was a bit of a daft thing to do, all right,” Lewis comments. James can almost hear the rest of the sentence: _But it was thoughtful._ And he can see appreciation in Lewis’s eyes, which is a completely different reaction from what he’d expected: that Lewis would have resented his knowledge and interference, and the privacy barriers would well and truly have slammed into place. “Well, you’d best tell me where I’m supposed to have been and what I should have done there, an’ we’ll work out how to fit me ankle into the story. All right?”

James’s eyes widen. “You don’t have to back up my lies, sir. I can explain to Innocent–”

“Explain what? That you thought I was halfway through a bottle of brandy?” 

Yeah, he’s already realised why that won’t work. “Of course, not that, sir. But something–”

“Nah, just let it stand. Easier that way. Next time, though, just phone me, man, eh?”

“I will,” he promises. “And of course I can tell you what I told Innocent, and then if you give me that list I’ll run to Sainsbury’s for you.”

“Nah. Sainsbury’s first, while I order takeaway, an’ you can tell me while we eat.” Lewis gives him a crooked smile. “Need someone to make sure I keep me foot elevated and iced, don’t I?”

James nods; of course he’ll help in any way he can – and the fact that Lewis is actually inviting him to help feels like such a significant gesture. Not only is his boss not pissed off that he drew an erroneous – and intrusive – conclusion about his absence, but he’s actually welcoming James’s presence and assistance. Genuinely welcoming him, not just being polite. It gives him the impetus to add, “And perhaps... I should bring an overnight bag, in case you need help later or in the morning? You’ll certainly need a lift to work.”

Lewis pats his shoulder. “Good man. Oh, an’ there’s beer in the fridge already, so you don’t need to get any.”

“You said you couldn’t drink!”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t, lad. An’ I’m guessing you need it if you’ve been running the Innocent gauntlet all day.” Lewis winks at him, then turns his attention to writing the shopping list. 

“It wouldn’t be unwelcome, sir,” he agrees, and takes the list Lewis hands him. Skimming it, he adds with a grin, “Should I also look for a walking-stick, sir? Or perhaps a Zimmer frame?”

He dodges the spoon thrown at him, and saunters out of the flat with the grin still on his face.

* * *


End file.
